


Mr. Right and Mrs. (Not) Always Right

by avalonjoan



Series: Henrietta: without magic, with medical careers [1]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: (he's a physician assistant but there's no good tag for that), Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Blowjobs, Caretaking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Doctor Adam Parrish, Hurt/Comfort, Kavinsky is nice, M rating is for Chapter 3 Only, M/M, Married Couple, Nicknames, Oral Sex, POV Alternating, Paramedic Ronan Lynch, Pet Names, Ronan has the flu, Self-Indulgent, Shower Sex, Sick Character, Sickfic, Sneezing, Texting, They move back to Henrietta and everything is fine, also Ronan has a nipple piercing and you can fight me on this, of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:08:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26617948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avalonjoan/pseuds/avalonjoan
Summary: The door to Adam’s office burst open. Ronan was frantically buttoning his uniform shirt, a panicked look in his eyes. “What are you doing? We gotta be at the hospital in fifteen minutes.”Adam looked down at the gallery of students on his screen, then back up at Ronan. “It’s Thursday.”“Oh.”Ronan forgets what day it is, interrupts Adam's lecture, and promptly gets sent to bed, all in the span of ten minutes.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Series: Henrietta: without magic, with medical careers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971451
Comments: 42
Kudos: 335





	1. interruption

**Author's Note:**

> ladies, gents, and those of us who know better: may I present, yet another sickfic.

Adam was forty-five minutes into his emergency medicine Zoom lecture when he heard a resounding “FUCK” from down the hall. If it had been an in-person class, the students would have exchanged amused looks, but then again, if it were an in-person class, he wouldn’t have to deal with Ronan swearing in the background. He faltered, then let out a small sigh, before going on with the presentation. “Right. So. The right upper quadrant has a number of structures, all of which can cause an acute—”

“Adam!”

“—abdomen, so let’s start with the—”

“Parrish!”

“—gallbladder. To review, the gallbladder stores the—”

“Parrish, where the fuck are you? We gotta go!”

Adam closed his eyes and hit the spacebar, muting his microphone. “Ro, please be quiet, I’m teaching,” he called, waiting a few seconds before unmuting and continuing, “The gallbladder stores the bile, which is made in the liver and is responsible for digesting fats.”

The door to Adam’s office burst open. Ronan was frantically buttoning his uniform shirt, a panicked look in his eyes. “What are you doing? We gotta be at the hospital in fifteen minutes.”

Adam looked down at the gallery of students on his screen, then back up at Ronan. “It’s Thursday.”

“Oh.” Ronan blinked a few times, brow furrowed as he processed this new information. “I—sorry. I thought it was…” he trailed off, leaning on the doorframe and starting to take off his uniform. Bewildered at how Ronan had ended up a day off when they’d had the same schedule since moving back to Virginia six months ago, Adam watched him for a few seconds and noticed that he was moving slowly, like each button was taking a fair amount of work. Looking him over in entirety, he saw that Ronan was pale as well, sniffling every few breaths, and seemed to be fighting to keep his eyes open.

Turning back to his students, having forgotten to mute himself in all the commotion, Adam announced, “You know, let’s break here--this is a good stopping point. And let’s do fifteen minutes--I’ll see you all back at ten.” Shutting off his camera and microphone, he stood and crossed the room to stand in front of Ronan. “Hey, darlin’.” He touched Ronan’s cheek and the other looked up, eyes glassy and tired. “You alright?”

Ronan shook his head. “I feel like shit.” He paused. “Sorry for interrupting your class.”

Adam shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. How about you get changed and head back to bed, and I’ll be in in a few minutes?”

“But you’ve got class.”

Smiling, Adam slid his hand to cup the back of Ronan’s head, leaning closer to kiss his forehead; he was warm, but nothing that couldn’t be managed at home. “I’ll bring my class with me.” He’d been fortunate to be able to bring the class with him all the way from Boston to Virginia; the program had decided to let him finish teaching the course remotely, since he was good at it and the physician assistant students already knew him.

With a nod, Ronan went down the hall to their bedroom. Adam didn’t move for a moment, instead letting out a sigh and looking up at the ceiling. Putting aside that he mixed up days of the week, the fact that Ronan would try going to work when he was clearly unwell was so typical of him, preferring to fly under the radar and suffer it out with over-the-counter meds and catching sleep when he could in the cab of his ambulance. You’d think that he’d be better about it, being a paramedic and all, but Ronan couldn’t always be counted on to be sensible. To be fair, Adam sometimes needed cajoling into taking a sick day, and he had a goddamn Master’s degree.

Keeping an eye on the time, Adam went down to the kitchen and put the kettle on the stove. He took out the awful mug set that Blue had given them at their engagement party, Adam’s reading ‘Mr. Right’ and Ronan’s reading ‘Mrs. Always Right’. (“If I had to put up with people giving us this shit when we got engaged, you have to deal with it too,” she had reasoned.) While the water boiled, he went to their aggressively-well-stocked medicine cabinet and took out a few things Ronan might need, shoving pill bottles and blister packs into his pockets to keep his hands free. He went back to the kitchen, placed a peppermint tea bag into each mug and poured in the near-boiling water before carefully taking the mugs upstairs and bumping their bedroom open with his hip.

Ronan looked distinctly more comfortable than he did a few minutes ago, sitting in bed with Adam’s Northeastern sweatshirt on and the comforter up to his waist. He smiled as Adam came around to his side of the bed to hand off the mug and deposit the various medications onto the bed. “Take your pick,” Adam said, bending over and kissing Ronan’s forehead again. “You look cozy.” Ronan hummed in agreement, taking a sip of the tea before setting it down to sift through the medications.

“Thanks.” His voice was rough and Adam wanted nothing more than to cancel the second half of lecture, put on a movie, and let Ronan fall asleep with his head in Adam’s lap. Wincing as he swallowed a small handful of pills with a mouthful of tea, Ronan leaned back and looked up at Adam. “‘s almost ten.” 

Adam retrieved his laptop from the other room and got in bed beside Ronan, resting the laptop on his knees and restarting the audio and video. A few students had sent him private messages asking if everything was alright; they were a pleasant reminder of the parts of patient care that weren’t taught in the classroom. Shortly after, his students’ faces started appearing on the screen, and he waited to start until he saw that everyone was present. “Sorry about the abrupt break earlier--had to deal with some family stuff. The joys of working from home. Speaking of which,” he paused, smiling, “want to meet my husband?” He gripped the side of his laptop screen and started to rotate it toward Ronan.

“Fuck, Parrish!” Ronan rasped, raising the mug of tea to cover his face and extending his free hand toward the computer to block the camera. “I look like shit.” He turned away, coughing, his lungs clearly not too pleased with his sudden exclamation.

Turning the computer back to face him, Adam went on, “I’ll introduce you all next week once he’s had his beauty rest. Maybe he can talk a little about the prehospital side of emergency medicine.” Still coughing, Ronan gave a thumbs-up.

Adam continued to lecture, covering everything he’d intended to even with the extended break. Throughout it, Ronan sipped his tea, resting against the headboard, watching Adam. About a half-hour before class was over, Adam noticed Ronan’s head bob, slowly tilting down and then jerking up. Continuing to talk about the mechanisms of pancreatitis, he took the mug from Ronan’s hand and set it on his own bedside table. With his newly unoccupied hand, Ronan touched Adam’s thigh, his palm warm through Adam’s pants, and then scooted down in the bed so that he was halfway between sitting and lying down. Adam kept going, pausing only to shift the computer away when he felt Ronan’s head slump against his shoulder. “Can you all hear me if I talk like this?” he asked, dropping his slightly louder ‘professor voice’ so as not to wake Ronan. The students replied that they could, and Adam went on to finish the lecture in his normal voice. When he was done, he asked the students to leave any questions in the chat for him to answer by email later, and they all signed off to go to their next class. 

Turning the computer, he brought Ronan into the frame of his video and took a clandestine screenshot. Continuing to watch as Ronan slept, snoring quietly with his lips slightly parted, Adam’s chest felt warm, a mix of gratitude and disbelief. Here he was, back in Henrietta--how he’d always wanted to leave this place, how he’d resisted returning for so long. Perhaps he wouldn’t have dreaded it if he’d known that it would feel so different with Ronan--and not just as Ronan, but with his  _ husband _ Ronan--at the Barns, their best friends living only a quick drive away, Adam working at the same hospital where he’d had cuts sutured and bones set countless times, teaching unabashedly with the broad vowels of the accent he tried for so long to hide.

He closed his computer and set it on the nightstand, then closed his eyes, resting his head atop Ronan’s, the other’s stubble prickly over fevered skin. Even though Adam was well-rested--something else that was new in his return to Henrietta--he knew he could at least take a nap like this, nestled up against Ronan’s warmth, comfortable in their bed, their home, their life.   
  


* * *

  
Ronan woke with a groan, feeling achy and tired and just plain  _ sick _ , but then Adam’s hand was on his back and things felt the tiniest bit better. “Morning, sunshine,” Adam said, sliding his hand onto Ronan’s upper arm, “How’d you sleep?”

“Weird-ass dreams,” he grumbled, rolling over and butting his head against Adam’s thigh. “What time is it?”

“A little after noon.”

Ronan groaned again, trying to push himself to a sitting position. “I gotta prep my lecture.” He only made it a few inches off the mattress before his arms gave out, muscles and joints burning. “Fuck. My head’s killing me.”

With a soft sound of disagreement, Adam tugged the comforter over Ronan’s shoulder from where it had slipped when he tried to get up. “You’re not going anywhere like this. I already called the school.”

“Adam.” Ronan wanted to be angry, but didn’t have the energy for it and besides, he knew Adam was right. He should know better than to risk infecting the entire paramedic class at the community college with whatever the hell he had. And whatever it was was making him feel worse than he had in years--he couldn’t recall being this sick since he was at Aglionby, but at that point in his life he’d subsisted on alcohol, pizza, and far too little sleep. But now he was an adult and actually looked after himself and didn’t have time for this bullshit.

A cool hand pressed to his forehead. “Your fever’s back. What did you take earlier?”

“Don’t remember. Not enough, clearly.”

“Alright. I’ll get you some ibuprofen. Have you eaten anything today?” Ronan shook his head, the movement not helping the pain behind his eyes. “Are you hungry?” This time, he mumbled his response, but Adam clearly picked up on the intended message. “Would you eat a peanut butter sandwich if I made you one? Might help your head to have something in your system.”

“Okay.” He opened his eyes, looking up just enough to see Adam’s worried expression. “Don’t toast it, though.”

Adam leaned over and kissed Ronan’s forehead as he stood. “Throat bothering you?” Ronan made a small affirmative sound. “It’s probably the flu.”

“Fuck.” Any venom in the statement was undermined by the coughing fit that immediately followed, and Ronan felt Adam’s hand against his back once again, rubbing across his shoulderblades until he could breathe normally.

“Be right back.”

Ronan swam between sleep and wakefulness while Adam was gone, making the time stretch out for ages in his already fever-disoriented brain. Finally, he heard the sound of Adam humming softly and forced himself to open his eyes. Adam had set a plate and glass of water on the nightstand and was shaking a bottle of ibuprofen into his hand. Crouching down, he smoothed his free hand over Ronan’s stubble and smiled. God, Ronan was lucky.

“Sit up so we can eat,” Adam said, nudging Ronan’s shoulder before standing and letting the other shift to a seated position. He dropped three tablets into Ronan’s palm and passed him the glass before climbing onto his side of the bed. It wasn’t until Ronan had swallowed the pills and taken a bite of his sandwich that he realized that Adam had been waiting for him, watching expectantly with his own sandwich in his lap.

“You don’t have to hover,” he chided gently, knowing that his voice was barely intelligible between the mouthful of peanut butter and rough throat. “I’ll be okay.”

Adam cast his eyes down. “I’m always gonna worry about you, Ro.” 

Spilling crumbs onto the comforter, Ronan scooted closer to Adam so their shoulders were touching. “Sorry,” he said, and then when Adam didn’t look up, kicked gently at Adam’s feet. “Tamquam?”

With a smile, Adam looked up, pressing a kiss to Ronan’s temple as he murmured, “Alter idem. Now eat your damn lunch.” Ronan did as he was told, realizing about halfway through that he had actually been hungry all along, making him all the more grateful for having Adam there. When he finished, he set the plate back on the nightstand and burrowed under the covers, trying to ward off the chill that seemed to penetrate right through him. Of course, nothing slipped past Adam. “You cold?”

Ronan nodded, and Adam leaned toward the foot of the bed and proceeded to unfold the blue cabled afghan that Gansey had made them for their wedding. Even though Ronan couldn’t smell its distinct scent--a mix of wool, smoke, and Adam--through his congestion, he was still comforted, both by the weight and by the thought of Gansey, still close to them after all these years. Once Adam had tucked the blanket around Ronan, he sat back against the headboard and ran his hand over Ronan’s head, scratching gently at the back of his neck before moving away. Ronan made a sound of protest in the back of his throat and scooted backwards so that his back was pressed against Adam’s leg.

“You’re awful whiny,” Adam said, resuming his slow petting of Ronan’s head. It was true, and Ronan knew it. His guard was mostly down with Adam, although they both had a holdover from their upbringings: independence to a fault. But if one little thing pushed past that, be it illness, exhaustion, or a bit too much to drink, Ronan was content to be reliant on Adam. He’d gotten a concussion a few years back and would barely let go of Adam’s hand long enough to let the other use the bathroom.

“Don’t like being sick,” he grumbled, “Like having you here, though. You gonna nap with me some more?”

“No, I’m all sleep-ed out. I’ll read until you fall asleep and then do some Sign practice.”

“Well, keep it down. I’ll be extra grumpy if you wake me up with your vocab.”

“Ha ha.” Ronan could hear the smile in Adam’s voice, even if he couldn’t see it. “Go to sleep.”

Ronan didn’t need to be told twice.


	2. a rose by any other name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronan reflects on his nicknames, both sweet and...not so sweet.
> 
> [Kavinsky is here and is nice!]

He didn’t think it was possible, but somehow Ronan woke up the next day feeling worse. Kicking off his sweat-drenched sheets, he rolled over and immediately downed half of the glass of water on the bedside table, then popped off the cap on the bottle of Tylenol and swallowed two tablets with the rest of the water. Just the motion of shifting positions had made him a little dizzy, so he fell back onto the pillow and groped for his phone.

The lock screen was filled with notifications, all from Kavinsky. He opened his messages and started to read through them--the earliest was from ten-thirty, and the most recent came in just a few minutes ago.

 **Lynch  
** **You fucker  
** **How could you do this to me  
** **I thought we had something special  
** **But then you bang out on me on FRIDAY THE 13TH and don’t even have the decency to call**

There was a fifteen minute pause between messages before the deluge continued.

 **They put me with Tad and he’s a black fucking cloud  
** **We’ve been going nonstop since I clocked in  
** **I haven’t even had time to drink my coffee**

Finding it hard to focus on the screen for too long, Ronan carefully typed out a reply. 

_**Sorry for your loss  
If it makes you feel better, I had a fever of 102 yesterday** _

It was a few minutes before Kavinsky replied, the buzz jolting Ronan awake again.

**Gross.**

_**It really is  
I’m gonna go eat something and go back to bed  
I’ll see you next week** _

**ROVINSKY WILL RIDE AGAIN  
** **Feel better tho**

_**Thx** _

Even though Ronan would never refer to his work partners as friends, Kavinsky came the closest of anyone. They’d worked the Friday shift together for the past month and a half, and after a few absolute clusterfucks and well-deserved post-shift drinks, they’d started texting throughout the week, mostly bitching about work. K was Ronan’s age, but they were at wildly different places in life--Ronan was married while K swiped through Tinder and Grindr when he got bored in the cab--but somehow, they clicked. If he didn’t feel so goddamn sick, he might even feel bad for abandoning Kavinsky on such an omen-laden date.

Taking care to move slowly this time, Ronan sat up and dangled his legs over the edge of the bed. He took a deep breath and doubled over coughing, which only served to make his head and throat hurt more. After a few more minutes flopped back on the bed, he stood, pulling on the pair of sweatpants he’d taken off during the night and one of Adam’s sweatshirts. Adam would already be at work, so Ronan would have to settle for the comfort of borrowing his clothes until evening. Slowly, he made his way downstairs and headed toward the kitchen, stopping suddenly when he saw Adam rummaging in the fridge.

“Good morning,” Adam said with a smile, setting a few different vegetables on the counter and walking over to Ronan. He kissed his forehead, frowned, and started steering Ronan toward the living room. “How’d you sleep?”

Ronan shrugged, letting Adam guide him toward their enormous armchair and curling up on the seat, his head on the armrest. He didn’t remember any strange dreams like he’d had during the day, but he honestly would have preferred that to waking up coughing every half-hour. “Not great. Did I keep you up?” 

“Yeah.” Adam crouched next to Ronan and traced the curve of his ear with one finger. It made Ronan shiver, and Adam moved his hand to rest on Ronan’s shoulder. “But I decided yesterday that I was going to stay home so I slept in.”

“I was gonna ask about that.” 

“It’s a good idea anyway, with the incubation period and all that, but really I just didn’t want to leave you.” Adam kissed Ronan’s forehead again. “You looked so miserable last night.”

“‘m glad you stayed.”

“Me too. You hungry?” Adam stood and looked to Ronan, who shrugged. “There’s coffee if you want it. Will you eat eggs and toast?”

The idea of coffee made Ronan’s stomach turn, but the food seemed like something he could tolerate. “I could eat,” he said, pushing himself up with one arm before Adam tried to urge him back down with a firm hand on his shoulder. “No,” he protested, “I’ve been lying around since yesterday--wanna stretch my legs.”

Adam nodded before heading back toward the kitchen. Ronan heard the sounds of cooking--the clank of a pan being set on the stove, the snapping of the burner lighting, the open and close of the fridge--as he slowly stood and made his way toward Adam. He sat down on one of the bar stools and slumped onto the counter, head resting on folded arms, setting his phone beside him. He must have dozed off because suddenly Adam was sitting next to him, a gentle hand on his back. “Food’s ready, babe.” 

If someone had told Ronan a decade ago that anyone, let alone Adam, would use a pet name for him, Ronan would have punched them on the spot. But somehow these little names had crept into his and Adam’s vocabulary and to be honest, Ronan loved it. He loved how Adam’s accent rolled through ‘darling’ and how much easier it was to wake up with Adam whispering in his ear, ‘time to get up, love.’ It was their secret, this little intimacy. Even the shortened version of his already short name made his chest feel full, Adam calling him ‘Ro’ and everyone knowing that nickname was his to use, and his only.

“Also you’ve gotten like, a million texts from ‘Work Wife.’” Adam smirked. “Should I be worried?”

Blinking slowly at Adam, then at the plate of food on the counter, it took Ronan longer than it should have to look to his phone and pick it up. Sure enough, there were more texts from Kavinsky.

 **Hey fuckweasel  
** **They’re sending us on some bullshit call in your neck of the woods  
** **Want me to come in and give you an IV and some ketamine  
** **Might make you feel better  
** **But seriously do you need anything**

Ronan smiled, then typed out a response. 

_**Haha I’m good. Thanks** _

He looked up at Adam and shook his head. “Definitely not,” he said, setting his phone down and picking up the fork Adam had set out for him, “Just my partner trying to be funny.” 

Okay, so maybe he’d say that Kavinsky was a friend.


	3. soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronan loses his voice, gets it back, and lets Adam take care of him in a more...intimate way than the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, starting this fic: This is just a one-shot. They're gonna cuddle and Adam's gonna take care of Ronan.
> 
> Me now, writing part three: Adam's gonna take care of him with some sexual healing.

Adam spent most of the day doing housework, and Ronan spent most of the day following him around and falling asleep: at the kitchen counter while Adam cooked, in a pile of warm clothes while Adam attempted to fold their laundry, and on the porch swing while Adam raked leaves. Every time, Adam would rouse him and try to get him to go to bed, or the couch, or literally anywhere other than where he was, but Ronan just shook his head and went along to Adam’s next task.

The sun was already going down when Ronan decided that he’d slept enough for the day and that bothering Adam was the first thing on his agenda. Adam had been reading on the couch with Ronan’s head in his lap, occasionally running his fingers over the other’s scalp, enjoying the silence and Ronan’s heat against his legs. The book fell from his hands as Ronan woke up, flipped around so that his feet were nestled in between the cushions and Adam’s thighs, and wiggled his toes as he shoved his feet further beneath Adam. With a pointed look, Adam asked, “Have a good nap?”

“Yeah.” Ronan cleared his throat, which did nothing to help his rough, low voice. “How’s your book?” His words cut out about halfway through the short question, but he pointed toward the book to fill in the blank.

“It was good until you whacked it out of my hands with your big head.” Ronan looked unapologetic as he shrugged. “Are you up for real now?” Ronan nodded. Adam figured he was trying to minimize the amount of talking he did--even with ibuprofen and Tylenol and gross cherry numbing lozenges, he’d still complained throughout the day that his throat hurt. “What do you want to do? We could watch a movie or have dinner or I could read to you?” There was a hissing sound as Ronan tried to get a word out, and if Adam hadn’t been a decent lip-reader, he probably would have missed his response. “You know, if you’d taken that Sign class with me, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

Ronan gave him the finger and proceeded to do the sign for shower, although Adam wasn’t sure if he actually knew it or if it was just a lucky guess. Setting the book on the arm of the couch, Adam stood up and reached a hand out to Ronan, helping him to his feet. With a gentle push, he directed Ronan toward the bathroom, but Ronan didn’t let go of his hand; instead, he tugged Adam after him.

From a purely medical standpoint, it was actually a good idea; Ronan had passed out more than once when he was sick, and Adam had treated enough people with all sorts of injuries from falling in the shower to know that it wasn’t something he wanted to risk. From a non-medical standpoint...it was less of a good idea, given the circumstances. Adam couldn’t think of a time that they had showered together and it hadn’t ended in at least one of them getting off. Nevertheless, Adam followed Ronan to the bathroom and undressed, wrapping his arms around Ronan when he noticed the other shivering. Once the water was hot, they stepped under the spray and Adam reached for the shampoo, turning Ronan around so his back was facing him. “If you feel even a little like you’re going to pass out, you sit down, okay?”

Ronan nodded, tilting his head back so Adam could scrub his fingers over Ronan’s scalp, washing his longer-than-usual-but-still-a-buzzcut hair. After rinsing the shampoo off, he moved his hands down to Ronan’s shoulders, gently rubbing at the muscles at the base of his neck. Even over the sound of the shower he didn’t miss Ronan’s quiet hum of appreciation, followed by a rough murmur. “That feels really good.”

“You sore, babe?” Ronan nodded. “Anywhere in particular I can help with?”

“Lower back. Please.”

Adam slid his hands down Ronan’s back and started working pressing his fingers in on either side of his spine, paying attention to how Ronan visibly relaxed after a few moments. He gazed at the tattoo spread across Ronan’s back, and the defined muscles underneath; even after all these years, he was still in awe of Ronan’s body, a beautiful and hard shell around an even more beautiful spirit. Against his better judgement, Adam leaned closer and pressed his lips to the back of Ronan’s neck.

Again, Ronan hummed, but this time it was different, almost a growl; Adam was well acquainted with that sound, so he wasn’t surprised when Ronan reached behind him and guided Adam’s hand around to press against Ronan’s cock, already hard and waiting. “Sure you’re feeling up to it?”

“You know the answer to that.” Ronan leaned back every so slightly, his ass pressed to Adam’s groin, and it was Adam’s turn to let out a soft gasp.

“Turn around,” Adam said, “I want to see your face.” Ronan obeyed, and Adam stepped closer, their chests touching, and kissed Ronan’s neck, occasionally nipping with his teeth as he trailed down to Ronan’s collarbone. “You’re so fucking hot,” he murmured against Ronan’s skin.

“‘s just the fever.”

Adam flicked at the bar piercing through Ronan’s nipple, eliciting a gasp from the other man. “Asshole.” He went back to work on Ronan’s neck, making sure only to leave marks low enough that Ronan’s uniform would cover them. He slid his hand back to Ronan’s cock, moving at the tempo that he knew would get Ronan to come before long. Sure enough, after only a minute, he heard Ronan’s breathing catch, followed by a rushed, “Adam, I’m gonna—”

He sneezed directly against the curve of Adam’s neck.

“Ah!” Adam pulled back, rinsing his skin under the shower spray. “The fuck.”

To Ronan’s credit, he looked genuinely apologetic as he managed, “I’m sorry!” in between two more sneezes, this time directed into his elbow. He sniffled, then rubbed at his nose. “I didn’t mean to.”

Adam laughed. “I’m not actually mad. But I  _ am _ going to finish this out of sneezing range.” He dropped to his knees and took Ronan’s cock into his mouth, quickly getting him back to the edge of orgasm. Ronan’s hands gripped his hair, going from a gentle tug to an urgent pull as Adam snaked an arm around and squeezed Ronan’s ass, drawing him deeper into his mouth.

“Please.” Ronan was breathing heavily, his voice congested as he begged. “Adam.”

Adam pulled back, wrapping his hand around Ronan’s cock again. “Come for me.”

Ronan did as he was told with a moan, head thrown back and hand fisted tightly in Adam’s hair. His legs shook, and Adam wasn’t surprised when he felt Ronan’s other hand on his shoulder, leaning on Adam in earnest as he lowered himself to the floor of the tub. Adam positioned himself between Ronan’s legs, a hand on each knee, and waited for Ronan’s ragged breathing to return to normal. 

“Fuck, that was good,” he managed after a moment, eyes half-closed. His voice was still shotty, but the steam from the shower seemed to have helped it some.

Leaning over and kissing Ronan’s forehead, Adam smiled against his skin. “Let’s finish up--water’s getting cold.” Ronan moved to his knees, allowing Adam to wash and rinse him before standing and doing the same for himself. Cutting off the water, Adam stepped out and quickly dried himself, then draped a towel over Ronan and helped him to his feet. As he toweled off Ronan’s scalp, he heard the other say softly, “I wish I could kiss you.”

“Me too.” Adam kissed his cheek before moving down to dry Ronan’s chest. “Soon.”

Ronan nodded, moving to press a kiss to Adam’s neck. “Soon.”


	4. how far we've come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronan looks after Adam and reflects on how many things have changed since they were teenagers.

By Saturday afternoon, Ronan was feeling better--not back to normal by a long shot, but better. He was awake enough to work on his lecture material for Tuesday without his head swimming every time he tried to review his slides; the presentation was equal parts diagrams of the heart and squiggly EKG tracings, and required a decent amount of focus even when he wasn’t sick. At Adam’s behest, they took a walk through the neighborhood, although he had to turn around at the end of the street because he was too winded to keep going. They settled down with Chinese takeout and a movie, and for the first time in the three days he’d been home, Ronan managed to stay awake for the entire thing.

Adam, on the other hand, was asleep about forty-five minutes in, his occasional commentary dropping off as his breathing became slow and even. When the movie finished, Ronan carefully extricated himself from his position at Adam’s side and sat on the arm of the couch to look at him. Adam’s cheeks were flushed, his forehead damp with sweat, and even though Ronan knew what he’d find, he still placed his palm against Adam’s forehead. Doing his best not to disturb the other, he draped Gansey’s afghan over Adam and went to the kitchen.

He had just finished heating the water to make a supposedly immune-boosting tea that Blue had brought them when they moved to the area (even if Adam had told him later that the whole concept of ‘boosting immunity’ was generally pseudoscientific bullshit) when Adam emerged from the living room, the blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he leaned on the doorframe. “I fell asleep,” he said, sounding more confused than anything.

“Yeah, you did.” Ronan smiled and poured the water into each mug. “Did you have a good nap?”

Adam shrugged. “I think I slept weird--my back’s bugging me. Do you have the ibuprofen handy?”

Sifting through the variety of snacks, drinks, and medications that they had amassed since Thursday, Ronan found the bottle in question and slid it across the counter to Adam. “Your back’s bugging you because you have the flu, dumbass. You spiked a fever during the movie.”

“Oh.” Adam took the bottle and sat down in the same place Ronan had fallen asleep during breakfast the day before. “I forgot how fast this comes on,” he said, shaking a few tablets into his hand and swallowing them dry. Ronan handed him a mug and sat beside him while Adam took a few sips. “Thanks.”

Ronan combed his fingers through Adam’s hair and leaned in to kiss his temple. “Of course.” Still fatigued himself, Ronan folded his arms on the counter and rested his head on them, looking over at Adam while the other drank his tea. Even sick and sniffling and exhausted, his delicate features highlighted with fever, he was as handsome as ever. Ronan remembered the first time he saw Adam; Ronan couldn’t deny that he hadn’t been behaving in a particularly Catholic way those days, but he’d known in a second that praying for divine intervention was the only way that someone like him would even consider giving his attention to someone like Ronan. Maybe God had decided that Ronan had been through enough and deserved something beautiful in those awful years of loss, or maybe God had simply been merciful and forgiving of Ronan’s fighting and swearing and all-around assholery, but either way, Adam had kissed Ronan the summer after graduation and for that Ronan was eternally thankful.

Pushing his mug away, Adam rubbed his hands over his face and looked to Ronan. “I gotta lie down.”

Ronan shot up, standing behind Adam and gripping his upper arms. “You’re not gonna pass out, are you?”

Adam shook his head, shrugging Ronan’s hands off and standing. “No--it’s just...everything hit me all of a sudden and I  _ will _ fall asleep here if I don’t get in bed like, right now.”

“Do you want me to carry you?” Ronan asked, an arm around Adam’s waist, “I’ll carry you.”

With a laugh that immediately turned into a coughing fit, Adam shook his head again. “This from the guy who actually almost fainted in the shower yesterday.”

“Fair.” Ronan gathered a few different items from the collection on the counter and followed Adam upstairs. While Adam brushed his teeth, Ronan popped a few different medications out of their blister packs and handed them to Adam, who swallowed them with a cupped handful of tap water. Returning to the bedroom, Adam undressed while Ronan sat on the bed and pulled back the covers, tucking the comforter around Adam once he was settled. He lay on his side facing Ronan, shivering slightly, and Ronan brushed some sweat-sticky hair off Adam’s forehead. “Your fever should be coming down soon--you’ve got a gram of Tylenol on board now, so…”

“You don’t need to stay here, Ro,” Adam said, eyes closed, voice soft with exhaustion.

Ronan’s heart ached. He gently touched Adam’s cheek, and the other looked up at him. “I’m only going to say this once and then I’ll stop pushing, but: you aren’t seventeen anymore, and you don’t need to do everything yourself. I want to be with you, but if you really want me to go, I’ll go.”

There was a long pause and Ronan thought that Adam might actually tell him to leave, but then Adam scooted closer and put his head in Ronan’s lap, one arm draped over his thighs. He took a shuddering breath, then let it out through pursed lips. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Ronan meant it. Adam deserved the world and all the love for him in it, and Ronan would remind him as often as he needed. “Can I do anything?”

It was quiet for a moment. “Could you tell me a story?”

Ronan smiled even though he knew Adam couldn’t see him. “Which one?”

Adam cleared his throat, then replied, “One of Gansey’s.”

He told the story of Glendower, the tale that had caught Gansey’s attention in middle school and ultimately led him to a Medieval Studies degree. Both he and Adam had heard it countless times as Gansey learned more and more details over the years. It was a comforting story, not so much in its content but in its familiarity. It was a story that had grown up with them.

When he finished, he reached for his phone from the nightstand and was surprised by a grumble of protest from his husband. “Oh,” he said, setting the phone beside him on the bed, “I didn’t realize you were still awake.”

“I keep waking up because I can’t breathe through my nose.”

“You poor thing,” Ronan cooed, only half in jest, and got up to retrieve a box of tissues and the trash can from the bathroom. While Adam blew his nose and drank the glass of water he had left for Ronan earlier that day, Ronan changed for bed and shut off the lights, leaving only the lamp on his nightstand to illuminate the room. Once Adam was tucked in and stopped coughing, Ronan lay behind him and held him close. “I’m sorry I got you sick.”

Adam shrugged. “I knew it was gonna happen. I just forgot how much this sucks. I haven’t had the flu since college.” He pulled out of Ronan’s arms just enough to look back at him with a glare. “Come to think of it, you gave it to me that time, too.”

“You weren’t complaining when I was giving it to you, if I recall correctly.” Ronan pressed his hips against Adam, who laughed. 

It had been Adam’s freshman year winter break. He was exhausted and proud and Ronan had missed him so, so much. They had spent three weeks kissing and fucking, even after Ronan started feeling sick, even after they both had fevers and their kisses were interrupted by coughing and their moans were thin and raspy. They were making up for lost time, for nights spent on the phone with eyes closed, imagining the feel of the other’s hands. For Ronan, though, part of his frantic desire to use every second he had with Adam--no matter how awful he felt--was the fear that Adam would change his mind about him: that he would decide that Ronan was too much work or too broken or that Virginia was too far, or that he would find some Gansey-esque doctorate-track academic at Harvard and choose him over Ronan and his community college associate degree plans.

But Adam had stayed. He drove through early mornings and late nights to meet Ronan halfway at no-name motels in New Jersey for the rare weekends they both had free, forgetting homework in favor of sitting in city parks and state forests with Ronan’s head in his lap. He helped Ronan pack the moving van but insisted that Ronan parallel park it on the narrow street outside their apartment in Back Bay. He ironed Ronan’s work clothes alongside his own white coat, even though Ronan told him it wasn’t necessary, but Adam said he looked handsome in his crisp uniform. Ronan had blushed furiously, and Adam had kissed his cheeks which only served to make him blush more. And now, here they were, ten years after that winter: sick again, still in love, with rings representing the promise that they didn’t need to rush, that they had a lifetime ahead of them. 

“Alright,” Ronan said, “Why don’t you try to get some sleep?” Adam lay back down, and Ronan rolled over to shut off the light. Wrapping his arms around Adam, he kissed the back of his neck, leaving his lips there as he murmured, “Feel better, babe.”

“You too,” Adam replied. “Tamquam.”

“Alter idem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this one-shot turned four-shot! I love these boys and got carried away, and I'm digging this AU so there will probably be some other works down the road.


	5. normal people

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grabbing onto Ronan’s sweater, Adam pulled him back in for a kiss on the lips. “Okay. I love you.”
> 
> “Ooh, English? Looks like Matthew’s gotten to you.” Ronan’s little brother had been asking for years why they didn’t just say 'I love you' like normal people. They didn’t have a concise answer beyond ‘this is how we’ve always done it.’
> 
> \---
> 
> It's time for Adam to teach again, but it's not looking too good, so Ronan steps in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my self-indulgent brain was like "hmm what if you brought it full circle" so here it is.

Ronan woke with the sun, Adam’s head warm and heavy on his chest. For the first time in a week, he was finally feeling well-rested and was itching to go for a walk or go grocery shopping or _something_ , but he didn’t dare disturb Adam by trying to get up. He couldn’t even reach for his phone since Adam’s hand was fisted into Ronan’s sleeve, pinning him down, so he stayed in bed, watching the light move through the blinds and spread its fingers over the room. 

The quiet was broken abruptly by Adam’s alarm, startling them both into wakefulness. Adam rolled over and took his phone off of the nightstand, silencing it and flopping back on top of Ronan. “Don’t want to get up.”

Ronan squeezed Adam close before wriggling away enough to see his face. “How do you feel?”

Adam’s mouth scrunched to the side for a moment while he considered the question. “No fever, no headache. Throat is—” he swallowed “--okay. Sinuses feel...meh. And lungs—” he took a deep breath, then tucked his head away from Ronan to cough “--also meh. So like, pretty good, I guess.”

Of course that met Adam’s definition of ‘pretty good.’ Ronan laced his fingers through Adam’s hair and guided him closer, kissing him on the forehead. “You teaching today?”

“Yeah. I think so. We’ll see how I feel once I get up.” Adam had felt ‘not terrible’ the morning before, but got steadily worse over the course of a few hours and ended up taking a three-hour nap after lunch. “I really don’t want to cancel so close to the end of the semester.”

It was the same with Ronan and his students, who would be starting their clinical time in January, and the last thing he needed was Kavinsky bitching at him about working with a medic student who couldn’t confidently tell him what leads on the EKG corresponded to what structures of the heart. “Alright,” he said, nudging Adam in the ribs with his index finger. Adam laughed and squirmed toward the far side of the bed. “Get up. I’ll go make breakfast.”

Adam obeyed, but Ronan didn’t get up right away; he was comfortable and Adam was beautiful, and he had an unobstructed view into the bathroom from where he lay in bed. He watched as Adam undressed, dropping his shirt and boxers onto the floor before resting his hands on the sink and leaning toward the mirror. “I still look awful,” he grumbled, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Hey,” Ronan said, finally pushing the covers off and standing, “Don’t say that about my husband. I’ll fight you.”

Adam laughed again, then doubled over coughing. Coming up behind him, Ronan rubbed Adam’s back until he was able to right himself, wiping at the corners of his eyes with the heel of one hand. “Fuck.”

“Sounds like it hurts.” Ronan brought his arms around Adam, his chest pressed to the other’s back, resting his palms over Adam’s sternum. “You sure you want to teach?” Adam nodded, but after a glance at his exhausted expression in the mirror, Ronan knew that he wouldn’t make it through two hours like this. “See if a shower helps,” he offered, “I’ll make coffee. Or—” he brought his lips close to Adam’s good ear “--I could come with you.” 

Turning around, Adam swatted at Ronan’s chest and pulled away. “You’re gonna make me late. Go.” He was smiling as he went to turn on the shower, and Ronan obligingly left, closing the door behind him.

Ronan was leaning against the kitchen counter, hands wrapped around his mug of coffee, when he heard Adam come down the stairs, pause, sneeze, and continue into the room. He'd expected Adam to be in his work clothes, but instead he was wrapped in Ronan's bathrobe, apparently trying to stay as comfortable for as long as possible. After choosing a mug from the cabinet--Ronan had already taken the ‘Mr. Right’ one, so Adam took the lumpy purple mug that Declan made during his first pottery class at the art school--Adam lifted the coffee carafe but quickly put it down, burying another sneeze into his elbow. “Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing at this nose, “My sinuses feel better but I can’t stop—” Another sneeze. “Ugh. This is the worst.”

He gave up on pouring coffee and went over to the pile of medications on the counter, quickly pushing pills out of their blister packs and collecting them in one hand. “You’re gonna be high as balls if you take all that,” Ronan commented as he filled Adam’s mug and brought it over, watching in horror as Adam poured a capful of cough syrup, swallowed it like a shot, and then took the pills with a mouthful of coffee. “Or you’ll puke. I’m making you toast.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m gonna go get dressed.” He took his coffee and headed toward the stairs. 

Ronan closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, willing himself to be patient. Rationally, he knew that Adam had spent his formative years working nonstop, and that being ‘unproductive’ was incredibly frustrating for him. It made sense that Adam would be insistent upon teaching; he’d missed three shifts at the ER this week and hadn’t done more than take an afternoon walk the day before. But Adam could also be an idiot, and he had a track record of saying he was fine when he really, really wasn’t. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself for the inevitable argument, Ronan put some bread in the toaster oven and went upstairs. 

He found Adam dressed in a sweater and jeans, starting up his laptop and opening the blinds to his office window. In the sunlight, Ronan finally got a good look at Adam; for someone who felt ‘pretty good,’ he looked more along the lines of ‘not great.’ He was deciding the best way to say this when Adam started coughing, bracing himself against the wall. It sounded raw enough that Ronan thought Adam might actually throw up just from the force of it, but after what was definitely too long he was able to catch his breath.

“Adam.” Ronan waited for Adam to face him. “Don’t be a shithead about this.”

“I’m not. Dextromethorphan will kick in soon and I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, until you end up in this hospital with pneumonia again.” It had been one of the worst experiences of Ronan’s life, and he’d had a lot of worst experiences. Adam had been sick, gotten mostly better, and then left work early with a fever a few days later. Delirious and struggling to breathe, Ronan practically had to carry him to the car the next day. They’d admitted him overnight, given him antibiotics and fluids, and Ronan had cried to Gansey over the phone, tucked into an elevator vestibule where he knew Adam couldn’t hear him. A nurse did, however, and brought him a little cup of ice cream from the patient fridge, and it was unexpected enough to shock him back to composure. He didn’t sleep for three days, until Blue showed up at their house and physically forced him from Adam’s bedside to the couch. “Please, Adam. I’m not saying you have to stay in bed all day. Just--don’t push yourself.”

Ronan could see Adam’s resolve cracking and knew he’d gotten through when Adam sighed, then slowly nodded. “Okay.” He crossed the room and allowed Ronan to put his arms around him. He nuzzled his face into Ronan’s neck, and Ronan brought a hand up to smooth over his hair. “Sorry for being a dick.” Quickly pulling out of Ronan’s embrace, he turned and sneezed again. “Yeah, I definitely can’t teach like this. Let me email them and I’ll meet you downstairs.” 

“Actually—” Ronan caught Adam by the arm as he went back toward the desk, “You said last week that I could do some guest lecturing, and I’ve got an EKG review ready to go.”

Fingers poised over the keyboard, Adam paused, frowned in thought, and then nodded. “Alright. I think it technically has to be optional since you’re not on staff, but the students will probably stick around since they’re all anxious about everything.” He typed out an email, looking up halfway through and adding, “You should probably get dressed.”

Ronan looked down--he was still wearing boxers (which the students wouldn’t be able to see anyway) and the Murder Squash t-shirt that he’d gotten in high school (which the students definitely would see, and wasn’t the most professor-ly look). He stole one of Adam’s sweaters and pulled it on over his shirt, then went downstairs to get their almost-forgotten breakfast. When he came back up, coffee in one hand and a plate crammed with peanut butter toast in the other, he found that Adam had brought another chair to his desk and moved to sit in it, leaving the more comfortable one for Ronan. “Are you going to sit here and supervise me?”

“Oh, there’s no way I’m leaving you alone with my students,” Adam laughed, reaching for a piece of toast and taking a bite. “God knows what you’d tell them about me.”

Grinning, Ronan pulled up his presentation from his Drive and then let Adam start the Zoom for the class. While the students logged in, Ronan leaned out of frame and kissed Adam. “Movie after this?”

Adam made a humming sound, then countered, “Read to me?”

“Sure.” Ronan rested his forehead against Adam’s. “Just as long as it isn’t the New England Journal.” One time of reading medical journals aloud to Adam was more than enough.

“Aw.” Adam pouted. “Guess I’ll have to think of something else.” He glanced at the screen. “Time to start your lecture, Professor Lynch. Let me introduce you first.” Angling the computer to face himself, he cleared his throat and unmuted his mic. “Good morning, everyone. As you can probably hear, I’m a little under the weather, so I’m handing off today’s lecture to—” coughing, he turned away and pushed the laptop toward Ronan.

Knowing full well (and not caring) that the students could see the small intimacy, Ronan slowly rubbed his palm over Adam’s back. “Please, just--stop talking,” he gently instructed. “I’ve got it.” Adam nodded, making a vague gesture toward the computer. After adjusting his position on screen, Ronan looked to the students. He briefly considered using the networking voice that he used when he went to young professional events with Adam and Gansey, but the idea of putting on that persona for a bunch of people he wouldn’t see again seemed exhausting. Besides, he might as well let them see exactly who their professor was married to. 

“Hey everyone--quick rundown of today: Ronan Lynch, paramedic, paramedic instructor, Adam’s husband. We’re gonna talk about prehospital care a little, and then review EKG interpretation. Lecture is optional, so if you’ve got something better to do--and I’m sure you do--don’t feel like you have to stay.” To his surprise, no one logged off. He looked to Adam, who had folded his arms on the desk and was resting his head on them. Adam nodded and gave a sleepy smile, and Ronan went on.

He’d been a medic instructor for a few years and found it pretty easy to get ‘in the zone,’ especially when the students were engaged and laughed at his jokes. Before he knew it, it was 10:15 and he’d run through his slide deck. “Shit,” he said, then sucked a breath in through his teeth, “I mean--I know you guys are supposed to have a break. Let me see if—” He was planning on asking Adam if there was anything he wanted to add, but Adam was fast asleep, his position unchanged on the desk. Turning back to the screen, Ronan said, taking care to keep his voice low, “Let’s call it a day. Feel free to email him with any questions, but don’t expect a quick response. And uh, thanks for sticking around today.”

Closing the laptop, he ran his fingers through Adam’s hair, trying to wake him in the least startling way possible. He watched as Adam’s eyes fluttered open. “Are you done already?”

“Yeah. I let them out early.”

“Oh.” Adam sat up and rubbed at his eyes. “I’m sorry--I didn’t meant to fall asleep. I wanted to watch.”

Ronan kissed the top of Adam’s head. “No apologizing. You can see me talk sometime at school.” Adam nodded and went to put his head back down, but Ronan caught him by the shoulder. “Uh-uh. If you’re going to sleep, you’re doing it on the bed or on the couch.”

Obediently, Adam stood and allowed Ronan to walk him to the bedroom and help him out of his teaching clothes. He drank the glass of water that Ronan set out for him, then curled under the covers and closed his eyes. Ronan sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingertips down the side of Adam’s face. “Do you still want me to read to you?”

Adam leaned into Ronan’s touch, so he spread his fingers and cupped Adam’s jaw in his palm, rubbing his thumb over his cheek. “Maybe later. ‘m gonna fall back to sleep.”

“Okay. Is it alright if I go run a few errands?” Adam made an agreeing hum. “Do you want anything while I’m out?”

“No, I’m--wait. Popsicles. You had the last one.”

“Of course.” They were Adam’s snack of choice when his throat hurt, and Ronan secretly loved it when Adam’s lips were stained red from the dye; somehow, it made Adam even more kissable. Ronan took his hand away from Adam’s face, then stood and bent over to kiss him on the forehead. “Text me if you think of anything else. I’ll probably just hang out downstairs after I get back so you can rest.”

Grabbing onto Ronan’s sweater, Adam pulled him back in for a kiss on the lips. “Okay. I love you.”

“Ooh, English? Looks like Matthew’s gotten to you.” Ronan’s little brother had been asking for years why they didn’t just say 'I love you' like normal people. They didn’t have a concise answer beyond ‘this is how we’ve always done it.’ They’d been eighteen and in love for the first time. They’d been eighteen and fiercely protective of each other after trauma-filled years. They’d been eighteen and smug about being good at Latin. It was their secret code, their understanding from early on that this was _it_ , that this was beyond a fling, even beyond dating. Of course they loved each other, but Cicero had put it so well already; they were each other’s second self.

“Give me a break, ‘m sick,” Adam grumbled, smiling nevertheless. “Tamquam—”

“--alter idem.”


End file.
